


Winter and the Witch

by e_p_hart



Category: ANDERSEN Hans Christian - Works, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Russian Fairy Tales
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1965417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_p_hart/pseuds/e_p_hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why must I learn all this, grandmother?” </p>
<p>The grandmother glared at Katya. “Come now, child, even a fool can read the signs! This long winter, the rumors of the Prince in a poisoned sleep, the animals growing restless, the falling stars-- our land will need every last bit of help it can get when this storm breaks.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter and the Witch

Katya went to live with the grandmother the month after her mother died.

The grandmother lived in the forest, a long way from the nearest village, and the other villagers clucked their tongues and wagged their heads before Katya left.

“There’s nothing for the girl there,” they said disapprovingly. “She’s never even met the grandmother.”

But no other arrangement could be found, as Katya had no other family, and was not skilled enough in anything for anyone to consider taking her in, so off Katya went to the grandmother’s cottage in the forest. Pavel, the wood-cutter’s son (not the smartest boy, they said, and always looked at Katya in such a love-sick way) went with Katya as far as the forest, which was far enough, and waved her off, face set and pale. After she disappeared into the darkness beneath the trees, there was nothing for him to do except to turn around and begin the long journey back home. So that is what he did.

* * *

  

The forest was scary enough, but Katya was brave, and pushed through the trees. She did not know exactly where the grandmother’s cottage was (no one did; neither her old village nor the one that she and Pavel had passed through to get to the forest knew), but it surely could not be very far into the forest, as the grandmother had to return to civilization at some point. And-- the warnings that the villagers had given her must be false, she assured herself. The cold must have made them more prone to half-witted dreams-- evidenced by the things they said about the Prince, which couldn’t be true at all.

After wandering in the forest for the better part of the day, Katya reached the cottage. It was set in a small clearing, an ordinary stone cottage with a straw roof, a wooden fence surrounding it, some chickens scratching around. Katya let herself through the gate, calling, “Grandmother?”

But there was no answer.

Nor was the grandmother inside the cottage either, but there was a merry fire in the fireplace, and if the wooden tables were covered with odd things, what of it? Katya didn’t know of any girl in her old village who would have turned down the opportunity to brag about a witch in the family. So Katya folded back her scarves and settled by the fire, dozing.

The grandmother returned late that evening, long after darkness had fallen, and swept into the cottage bringing the scents of cold and snow and pine. The grandmother did not seem surprised to see Katya there, sparing her barely a glance before setting to chopping herbs with a vengeance.

“Grandmother?” Katya asked tentatively.

“It took you long enough to get here,” the grandmother grunted, splashing something into a cup. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show, or that you’d end up marrying that half-wit wood-cutter’s son.”

“Pavel? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Never you mind, Katya,” the grandmother said. She set her spoon down and handed Katya a cup. “You must be tired, and you have a lot to learn, so drink this and get up to bed now. You can sleep in the loft.”

Katya drank and was filled with such a sweet lassitude she hardly remembered climbing the ladder to the loft behind the chimney and falling into bed.

* * *

 “What you have to remember,” the grandmother said, “is that witchcraft is half belief. That doesn’t mean if you try to feed someone hemlock in a potion it won’t kill them, but you can come up with your own recipes. Trial and error.” She slipped something into the cauldron. “Each herb has its own properties, and you’ll have to mix and find which combinations will work for you.”

“But, grandmother,” Katya said, perched on a stool, “are there no grimoires? Nothing of spells, of--”

“There are, but those are for black magic,” the grandmother said. “No exceptions. No, this sort of witchcraft comes from the earth. Even then, you must beware, for not all that comes from the earth is on our side. Oak, for instance, is never a good idea. And you must never gather willow by the dark of night.”

“Why must I learn all this, grandmother?”

The grandmother glared at Katya. “Come now, child, even a fool can read the signs! This long winter, the rumors of the Prince in a poisoned sleep, the animals growing restless, the falling stars-- our land will need every last bit of help it can get when this storm breaks.”

“But why me, grandmother?”

“Your mother, my daughter, rest her soul, died because she refused to remember what I taught her, as my mother taught me, and as I am now teaching you. God gives you gifts for a reason, Katya, and He doesn’t like it when you ignore them. Why do you think you have never excelled at anything? Because your mother denied your true talents! Witchcraft runs in our family, and I cannot let you remain in ignorance any longer, especially in these times.”

The wind howled outside the cottage, making the fire blaze suddenly. Katya flinched.

“Besides, child,” the grandmother continued, crushing black peppercorns in a mortar, “I won’t live forever, and I cannot in right mind leave without teaching you something.”

And that was that.

* * *

 Katya learned what the grandmother had to teach: how to make potions. She learned to cure rabies, rickets, and rheumatism; lice, love-sickness, and laryngitis; blindness, blood poisoning, and baldness; headaches, hiccups, and hypothermia; toothaches, tiredness, and tinnitus; deafness, distemper, and-- not death.

“We cannot bring back the dead,” the grandmother said, over and over again. “What we must do is prevent. If someone comes to you with chest pains, it could be a heart attack at some time. If someone complains of a fever, you treat the fever, yes, but also strengthen them, so they can fight off whatever sickness they have.”

“Mother said--” Katya started, then stopped, quelled by a look from the grandmother. “I always heard,” she continued, “that there were things that could bring back the dead. The golden apples, or with the help of the Firebird--”

“Those are true,” the grandmother said, “but how will you call the Firebird? She has not been seen for centuries. How will you find the Garden of the Golden Apples? Many strong knights have died in a quest for them. No, those dreams must remain dreams, Katya, or you will search for them instead of doing what you can at the moment. Bless your lover’s armor before battle instead of planning for how to bring them back to life. And, you must always remember, Death will come, even if we fight it well.”

And Katya dreamed that night of fair Death, dressed in a splendid black cloak of silk and feathers, who slipped into the little cottage and chatted for the night with the grandmother, who served him hot drinks and laughed with him like an old friend. When she mentioned her dream to the grandmother the next morning, the grandmother waved her hand and said, “Nonsense. I think, child, that you have been thinking too hard. Why don’t you take the day off and go visit the village outside this forest for me? I have some shopping I need you to do.”

The storms had not lessened for a week, and the snow was piled high, but Katya made a potion for warmth and another for strength and drank them, and fought her way through the drifts to the village. The supplies were bought, and Katya was treated to the latest rumors: that the Prince was not merely asleep but frozen, turned to ice with a heart of stone by his trusted adviser, who was a magician of the worst sort; and that the long winter was this traitor’s way of controlling the land while he got his minions into place; and that there were animals on the usurper’s side that were unhindered by the storms, and slunk through the eternal darkness to find witches; for hadn’t there been a prophesy that the would be a witch who could undo every evil act the magician had done?

“I think,” Katya said, shaking her head, “that you have had too much time to think about these rumors. You embellish, for shame!”

Nay, the shopkeeper said, whispering, I only wish I did.

“If these storms are so bad, how do the rumors get through them to you?”

They have their own witch, of course, who can read the signs.

“And if this adviser is hunting down all witches, why isn’t yours dead yet?”

He only shrugged, offering his empty hands.

Katya returned to the grandmother’s cottage soon after.

* * *

 But as soon as she entered the clearing, she knew something was wrong: there was no smoke from the chimney, the windows were dark, and the door was flung wide open.

“Grandmother!” Katya called, tripping through the snow in her hurry. There was melted snow everywhere inside, along with a dark puddle of blood that made Katya retch to see, and the tables had been overturned, as though there had been a struggle. There was no sign of the grandmother. Katya found herself curled beside the cold fireplace, head resting on her knees, unable to think: what should she do, what should she do?

She must have slept, for she thought next that the grandmother and Death entered the cottage and stood over her, regarding her with scorn from the grandmother and calm levelness from Death.

“Katya,” the grandmother said. “Child. You know what you must do. I have taught you everything you need to know. Take this last gift, the gift of time, and use it well!”

Death dropped his hand to Katya’s head and touched her hair, fingers icy and pale. “I, too, have a gift for you.” He reached down to the ground and scooped up a bit of snow, cupping it between his palms, squeezing. When he opened his palms again, a tiny white bird perched there, looking quizzically at Katya through ice-blue eyes. “A companion for you.”

“Why, you’ve become even more of a romantic than I thought,” the grandmother said, and a slight blush appeared on Death’s pallid cheeks. He blew at the bird, who took flight, and then resettled his cloak about him. “Use these gifts well, Katya,” the grandmother continued. “Now, get up!”

Katya blinked and then realized her head was pressed against her knees and she was stiff with cold. A chirp made her look up suddenly. The bird that Death made flew down to perch on own knee. She chirped again, as though to say, “Why are you still sitting there? Let’s go!” The bird jumped to her shoulder while Katya struggled to her feet. The storm seemed to have stopped, and there was a wan-almost-light to the sky, like the sun were trying to come out. Katya found the basket she had taken to the village and began to fill it with things she might need. A growl made her spin around in terror.

A huge grey wolf stood there, teeth bared. “I knew if I waited I would get you too,” it growled. It licked its lips. “The old woman was a nice appetizer, but you’ll be the main course!” At that, it lunged. Katya tripped back away from it, fumbling for something, anything. Death’s bird came from nowhere, chirping quite loudly for its small size and flapping its wings in the wolf’s eyes. Katya’s scrabbling hands fell onto the fireplace poker, and she got it up just in time to allow the wolf to impale itself on it when it lunged again, jaws snapping. It died, whimpering, still trying to bite her.

“Well, come on!” Death’s bird called from the lintel. “We can’t stay here!”

“You could have warned me before!” Katya said crossly, wiping her hands on a cloth and continuing her packing.

“I didn’t know you would be that stupid,” the bird said. When Katya doesn’t reply, it landed on the table and cocked its head at her. “I’m sorry. I should have helped you.”

“What is your name?”

The bird hopped around in a tiny circle before replying: “Call me Piri.”

“Piri,” Katya said. “Fine. And you are supposed to help me?”

“I am supposed to try.”

“What am I to do?” Katya’s hands shook a little.

“You are supposed to do what you think is right,” Piri said. “I’m just a bird; I can’t tell you what to do.”

Katya nearly rolled her eyes, but restrained herself. “I think I need to leave here,” she said. “That wolf-- the villagers say that someone has enchanted the Prince and cast an evil spell over the land, and wicked creatures are killing witches.”

“Sometimes rumors can be true,” Piri said.

“If that is the case, then am I to try to stop this evil magician?”

“Who am I to say? I am merely a bird. However,” Piri said, taking flight to hover before Katya’s face, “I don’t think that you’ll be able to sit back and live your life without these sorts of visits.” Katya knew she meant the wolf. “And you won’t be alone, whatever you decide, for I am coming with you. And who knows what else may turn up.” Piri chirped before landing on the top of Katya’s head.

Katya let out a breath. “Well, then, we should get going. Do you know the way to the capital?”

“I can guide you. But you’d better keep your wits about you, if you have any.”

It was useless to protest the insults, Katya knew, and so she simply finished packing, wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, and headed outside. “Which way?” she asked Piri, when she stood outside the gate.

“Left,” Piri said, and off they went.

* * *

 The forest stretched on for ever.

Snow began to fall shortly after Piri and Katya began their journey, the storm that had abated come back with a vengeance, and now they were (or at least Katya was; Piri had taken refuge inside Katya’s basket when the winds became too strong to fly in) fighting their way through the winds that buffeted them.

“This is no good!” Piri whistled from inside the basket. “We’ll never get anywhere in this weather!”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Katya gasped out.

“I do, actually,” Piri said, and gave a piercing, trilling whistle that seemed to echo in the air around them. “There!” Piri indicated to their right, where there was a small glow. “Go there, Katya!”

Katya did so, and soon came into a clearing where a man, dressed in heavy brown furs, sat on a log before a blazing fire. When Katya approached the fire, it curiously seemed to give off no heat. The winds were less here, and Piri hopped out from the basket and fluttered to perch on the log beside the man.

“Well,” the man growled eventually, “what did you call me down here for? I have work to do.”

“See, here’s the thing,” Piri said, “this is Katya.”

The man eyed Katya, who swallowed nervously. “And?”

“Oh, don’t play stupid,” Piri said. “You know exactly what I mean.”

The man shrugged. “He asked me to cover the land with ice,” he said. Katya noticed there were icicles in his long beard. “I am what I am, little bird, as are you. We are bound to our natures. Fate may be, but I still must howl and batter.”

“Even if you are bespelled to do it?”

The man growled and stood, causing Piri to flutter back to Katya in alarm, and the strange fire to shoot up blue sparks. “The North Wind cannot be bespelled!” he roared. The trees surrounding them all shuddered and dropped their loads of snow as the winds whipped up to a shriek. “I will not help you,” he howled. “Now, go!”

Katya didn’t wait for Piri to tell her, but turned and ran. She stopped when she could run no farther, and took shelter underneath a rowan.

“That didn’t go as well as I hoped,” Piri said, sounding sulky and slightly apologetic.

“So that was the North Wind,” Katya said.

“Yes. I hoped he would help us, but...” Piri gave a twittering sigh and perched on a branch.

“Perhaps I can help you instead,” a voice behind them said. It was a small black boy, dressed only with a garland of flowers around his head and a red and black cloth wrapped around his torso. He grinned at them so kindly that Katya couldn’t help but smile back.

“Little Zephyr,” Piri said, sounding surprised.

A look of irritation crossed the Winds’ face. “West Wind,” he said, “if you please. Although I am the youngest and the least powerful of all the winds, I am still a wind. My brother was rude to you,” he said, speaking now to Katya. “He has grown complacent and lazy, and my other brothers, the Southern and Eastern Winds, and I cannot abide this any longer. Unfortunately, my other brothers are busy, and so it falls upon me to gift you.”

“Thank you,” Katya said, touched.

“Little-- West Wind,” Piri said, “we appreciate this, but--”

“I will not waste your time,” the Wind snapped, warm, fragrant air lashing out. “I may be the least powerful of my brothers, but I am the most wise. I can slip places my brothers cannot, and avoid their anger if they discover me. That is what you need, do you not? A way to slip by, unnoticed. Therefore, I will give you this.” A rush of a wind that smelt of flowers and there was a pile of red folded in his arms. He shook it out to show a long red cloak. “For you, Katya. It will give you invisibility and flight. It is my own,” he added.

“Thank you,” Katya said again. She set her basket down in the snow and reached out to touch the cloak. It licked against her hand like fire, and she flinched back.

“No, no!” the West Wind said. “It will keep you warm, Katya. Do not be afraid. I promise it will not harm you.”

Hesitating, Katya reached out again. This time, the cloak seemed to curl around her hand like sunlight on a spring afternoon. She let her own cloak fall to the ground and allowed the West Wind to drape the red cloak over her shoulders. Instantly, she felt warm and comforted, safe. The terrible cold and driving winds now blew right through her as through she were not there. On impulse, she dropped to her knees and hugged the Wind. “Thank you,” she said. “If there is anything I can ever do for you, just ask.”

The Wind twisted in her arms, for all the world an embarrassed little boy. “I will remember,” he promised, and backed away, out of her grasp. “I must go now, before my brother the North Wind catches me here. Good luck, Katya!” A breeze like spring drifted across Katya’s face and the Western Wind was gone.

“Well,” Piri said after a moment, “this certainly makes things easier. We will get to the capital in no time now. Put up your hood and let’s go.”

Katya picked up her basket and then pulled the hood over her hair. She took a step forward and found herself high above the trees with the starry sky hanging over her as she flew, borne on a breeze of warmth. Another step and she was over a snow-covered plain. Another step and she was passing villages and towns with lights in windows that looked as small as stars. Piri flew beside her calmly, not straining at all, though they were surely moving faster than a horse could run, than the swiftest bird could fly. The red cloak fluttered behind her like graceful wings. Katya laughed at the wonder of it all.

The next moment she tumbled down to land on hard snow. She lay there, stunned, face down.

“Katya,” Piri whispered, “we need to go now, back the way we came, right now--”

“Leaving so soon?”

Katya lifted her head and spat out a mouthful of snow before focusing on the figure standing, tapping her foot.

“Baba!” Piri said, too cheerful. “How are you?”

The old witch glared down at Katya, seeming to age a year in an instant. “I knew if I left my net up I’d catch something, but this is just-- too-- good.” She shifted her attention to Piri. “What are you calling yourself these days, bird?”

“Piri, Baba.”

“Well, then, Piri, you are free to go, but your human here--”

“Now, Baba,” Piri said, “this is a fellow witch! You must know what she’s--”

“I do know,” Baba Yaga interrupted. “You, be silent.” Piri instantly became quiet. “You, follow me.” Katya found herself walking jerkily after the witch, up a small hill into her house, which, like the stories said, stood on chicken legs. “Sit down, child,” Baba said, and Katya did. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you, Baba Yaga.”

Baba Yaga cackled. “You’re a smart one, although you don’t look it. What’s your name?”

“Katya, Baba Yaga.”

“Well, Katya. You’re a witch, are you? And you’re on terms with both Death and the West Wind, eh?”

“It seems so, Baba Yaga.”

The old witch became solemn. “Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“No questions! You heard me. Prove that you are a witch. I know: make me a potion that will return me my youth. Don’t protest: I saw your basket of herbs. Make me a potion that will return my youth to me, Katya-the-witch.”

Piri fluttered to a table and stood there, silent, eyes watchful.

Katya had no choice. She took off the West Winds’ cloak and folded it neatly before placing it in her basket. What could she make the potion out of? Katya worried. She let out a breath and began. When she was finished she poured it into a cup and handed it to Baba Yaga, who had watched the whole affair. The witch sipped it, and several warts disappeared from her nose and the wrinkles around her eyes seemed to become less.

Baba Yaga cackled. “Blue roses and gilly-flower, very good,” she said. “All right, you passed my test. I won’t eat you, Katya-the-witch, but instead help you on your quest.”

“You are too kind, Baba Yaga,” Katya said.

“I know.” The witch rummaged around in a cupboard and came out with a small, flat package made of paper. “This should help you when your world goes dark. Don’t open it until you need it, however, for you may find it brings more misfortune than help.”

Katya placed the package in her basket. “Thank you, Baba Yaga. Words cannot express my gratitude.”

“Yes, well,” Baba Yaga grumbled, “you can do me a favor now and get out.” The door suddenly opened. Katya didn’t need to be asked twice, and swung on the West Winds’ cloak again and hurried out. When she stopped and looked back, the house was hopping away on its chicken legs.

“Whew,” Piri said. “You did well, Katya.”

“You never helped me!” Katya said, hurt.

“I couldn’t speak!” Piri shot back. “In any case, you were doing fine. And she helped us!” Piri whistled. “Things are looking up even more. But we must get to the capital. That is, if you are still determined.”

“With all the help I’m getting, it would be shameful if I didn’t continue,” Katya said. She pulled up the hood of the cloak and was off into the sky.

* * *

 Soon they reached the capital: Katya nearly ran into a tower, and had to throw herself quickly backward, and she landed in someone’s dead garden.

“We should work on your landings,” Piri said. Katya shushed him, aware of the people in the houses around them. “Your hood is still up,” Piri reminded her: “they can’t see or hear you.”

“I had forgotten,” Katya admitted, and stood up. “But how can I walk invisibly? I don’t want to fly now.”

“Leave the hood up but unfast the clasp,” Piri suggested. This proved to be just the answer, and Katya was able to walk unseen through the town.

The streets were almost empty: to the incautious observer, they would seem to be completely empty; but townsfolk crept into shadowy corners and alleys and whispered to each other of unnamed fears. Katya and Piri listened silently, making their way towards the center of the city, where the grand palace stood. It was indeed grand: the towers were tall, taller than the tallest tree, and capped with domes and spires of gold; the walls were a blinding white inlaid with red and green and a blue to match the clear sky; the doors were steadfast and strong, also gold; and there was a courtyard where the whole world could stand at attention to catch a glimpse of the royal family. But over all this was a thick coat of ugly, dirty ice: icicles dripped from the windows, barred the doors, and reached jaggedly to the sky. Katya and Piri stood outside the gates, astounded.

“It seems the stories were true,” Katya said at last: “this winter cannot be natural.” She hoisted her basket higher on her elbow. “Well, let us see what is within.” She was able to slip easily through the bars of the gates, but the doors were quite locked, and frozen shut besides.

By this time night had begun to fall, and Katya, despite the warm cloak of the Western Wind, grew cold and fearful. “Piri!” she cried. “How shall we get inside?”

“Hush!” Piri scolded. “Don’t be so scared. Wait here; I think I see a way in.” And she took to the air, shooting straight up into the darkening sky. Katya crouched against the side of the palace, huddled in on herself until the bird returned, twittering joyfully. “I was right!” she said triumphantly. “Straight up, Katya, and in through the window of the highest tower!”

Katya fastened the cloak shut and gave a great leap upwards; but she jumped too high for she found herself high in the air, looking downward at the tiny dot that was the palace. She began to float down again, but not at a great speed; and with Piri’s help she was able to navigate for the open window successfully. They alighted gracefully, and Katya, seeing the room dark, unfastened the cloak and pushed back her hood. Piri gave a cry of alarm-- but there was no need for it.

The Prince-- it must have been the Prince, for he wore a crown of gold-- lay on a great bed. His face was icy pale, and his lips were blue, and there was frost on his hair. No breath stirred before his lips; he was as one dead. Piri fluttered over and landed beside him on the bed.

“Is he...dead?” Katya whispered. She reached out a hand and felt the Prince’s arm; it was like wood beneath her touch.

“No, not yet,” Piri replied, “but it is a near thing. This spell has sapped his strength.”

“I will build a fire!” Katya said, and hastened to the fireplace, where she knelt before it and whispered a word the grandmother had taught her; the logs burst into flames.

“Katya!” Piri hissed. “I don’t think that is a good idea!”

“He’ll die if he doesn’t get warm!” Katya cried. “I must do something.” She reached into her basket--

“What are you doing in here?” The voice was cold, bitter cold, and deep, deep as black night where nightmares rule. Katya felt as though in a nightmare as she turned to find-- a terrible man, dressed in black robes, the most terrible man in the world, with eyes that burned of red fire. They burned her! Katya screamed and flung herself backwards. “You-- meddling-- witch!” The man picked her up and shook her like a dirty rag; Katya’s head spun.

“Piri!” she called. “Help me!” The bird did, shrieking and clawing all around the man’s head, who snarled, dropping Katya to the floor. She reached into her basket to find something, anything that would help her--

The fire went out, and the room was plunged into terrible darkness. Piri gave a horrible cry, and Katya closed her hand around the small package Baba Yaga had given her, and then ripped it open. At once the most wonderful light filled the room, for in the package was a single feather that glowed like the sun. Katya knew what she must do, and cried out, “Firebird! I need your aid! Firebird!” There was a great rush of wings and the terrible man yelled like he was dying, and the Firebird appeared. It seemed to take in the whole room at once: the terrible man cowering on the floor; Katya all but defeated, head aching; Piri lying with one wing bent back, unable to fly; the Prince in his icy sleep. It gave a loud call that echoed strangely; the terrible man whimpered and went still. Then the Firebird turned to Katya, and became the most beautiful woman in the world.

“You have called me,” she whispered, “and I have come. What would you bid me do?”

“Can you break the spell upon the Prince and the land?” Katya asked.

The Firebird laughed. “You must be more hurt than you seem. Of course I cannot.”

“But--” Katya stammered. “You have beaten back this magician!”

“This magician,” the Firebird said scornfully, “has tied up more of his power in these spells than in his body; you must break the spells before you can kill him, and you must wake the Prince first of all.”

“And what of the Prince?”

“What of him? His powers, do you mean? They slumber; perhaps, if he were sensible, he could help; but nothing but the golden apples of the garden of Paradise would wake him now, he is so weak.”

“Oh, Firebird,” Katya said, “can you not speak to me some comforting words?”

But the Firebird turned away her beautiful face. “I cannot,” she said.

“Then...will you take me to Paradise, so that I may find a golden apple?”

The Firebird laughed, but stopped suddenly, shocked. “You? Go to Paradise? You can’t be serious. Bird of Death, I would have thought you’d talk some sense into her.”

“I tried,” Piri said, sounding tired and weak. “But perhaps she talks more sense than we know. Fate has gotten her this far, after all, despite her stupidity.”

There was a pause as the Firebird thought it over. “Very well,” she said at last, “I will take you to Paradise if you wish, though you may not thank me for it.”

Katya picked herself off the floor and went to Piri. “Are you badly hurt?” she asked.

“Nothing that will kill me,” the bird said. “Katya, I will remain behind, and protect the Prince from further harm. That man, the magician-- his wrath will indeed be terrible when he wakes, and the Prince cannot survive it.” She cut Katya off when she tried to speak. “No, listen to what I must tell you now! In Paradise, do not forget your task, and do not lie; above all, take nothing that you are not bidden to take. Do you understand me?”

“I do,” Katya said, tremblingly, and the Firebird, newly transformed once more, gave a harsh cry and picked Katya in her great claws, and disappeared with a flash of fire.

* * *

 The walls of Paradise were very tall. The Firebird left Katya outside the gate, taking with her the feather, for it had lost all its virtue and was of no use to Katya.

“How shall I get back?” Katya had asked; the Firebird had shrugged: obviously it did not care. Katya watched the Firebird go, frustrated. Then there was nothing to do but approach the gates.

A beautiful angel with a sword of flame guarded the gate, and it watched her without expression as she came up. “Please, great angel,” Katya said, “I must enter the garden of Paradise.”

“Why?”

“I want a golden apple, so I may save my homeland, and the life of my Prince. They are dying, angel; and my fate has bidden me this far.”

“You speak true, and so is your heart; you may enter.” Saying such, it stepped aside and allowed Katya to pass through the gates into the garden.

* * *

 The garden was very quiet, and very empty, and very neat. Katya walked slowly through the trees, following the small, neat path of dirt. The sun shone warmly, and there was a calm breeze blowing, and from far away there was the sound like a tinkling brook; but there were no birds. It seemed an almost stern place, and except for the feeling of peace that surrounded Katya she felt she would be afraid.

Soon she came upon a clearing, and in the middle stood a small ring of trees that bore fruits of golden apples; these apples glittered brighter than the sun and nearly hurt to look upon. Katya stepped off the path and into the trees; the garden held its breath as she reached out and plucked a single apple from a low-hanging bough. It fell heavily into her hand, where it glistened as she turned it this way and that. She raised it to her face to smell its sweet fragrance, and a lash of hunger bit into her stomach. Quickly, she stuffed the apple into her basket and turned away from the trees, wishing to avoid temptation. She walked back to the path, but there was a figure waiting for her.

“Mother!” Katya cried, as she neared the path and recognized the figure. She flung her basket and cloak aside to bury herself in her mother’s embrace. “Oh, mother!”

“Katya,” her mother whispered into her hair. “My dear child, my love. How tired you look! How hungry, how sad!”

“You were dead, mother,” Katya said. “And the Prince-- the Prince is under a spell! I must save him.”

“But you, dear daughter, you are weary now. See? Your eyes ache to close.” Her mother touched her eyes and Katya could hardly keep them open. “You are hungry and thirsty, and this garden is so ripe! Surely you could take of some small bush, ease your suffering.”

“You were dead,” Katya said again, dizzy and confused. “Mother, you were dead. I must save the Prince. I must--”

“You should rest now, love. Rest.”

“No,” Katya said. She shook her head, pushing away from her mother. “No! I must go. I cannot stay here, mother. You are dead!” And she turned her face away and closed her eyes and thought to herself, “I must save the Prince!” When she opened her eyes again, her mother was gone. Katya wiped her cheeks, picked up her basket and the cloak of the Western Wind, and left the garden of Paradise with haste.

The angel smiled at Katya when she exited the gate. “I see you have prevailed.”

“I have, angel. Thank you for allowing me passage. I must make my way back to my homeland, now, and save it and the Prince.” As she thought about the journey, her heart sank and she felt wearier than ever. But she fastened her cloak and put up her hood and was away into the air, and although the journey seemed to take days, perhaps weeks, she eventually came upon the city of the Palace once more. She landed in a snowdrift and her legs crumpled beneath her, and her breath came sharply in her chest, and her right hand seemed to burn painfully from within. She wanted to lie there and sleep and sleep for all eternity; but she made herself climb to her feet and stagger to the gates of the palace, where she sank gratefully to the ground to catch her breath.

Once she had her breath back, she made the last jump into the air only to find the tower window, so conveniently open the last time, now barred and locked. Nearly weeping with frustration, Katya fell back to earth.

* * *

 Time passed. Katya lay, nearly insensible. She remembered what she must do, but could not make her body cooperate: it was content to be still, and closed off, and resting. The breath flowed in and out. Her right hand throbbed with pain.

In her madness, Katya dreamed that Death came to her, and placed his hands upon her face, and kissed her forehead, and that he lifted her from the ground and helped her stand.

“I am so tired,” she murmured.

“I know, and it saddens me to make you go on, for I love you as I loved your mother,” Death said, stroking back her hair. “Katya, you must not give up! It is not your time to die; and you have much still to do! Awake, daughter!”

Katya opened her eyes, and found herself staring at the sky. Her body ached a little less; her hand, having lain in the snow, throbbed more dully; and she found, after a moment, that she could stand. She did, and found that she could also walk. She set about trying to find a way inside the palace. All was cold and locked. Then a thought came to her, and she jumped up to land lightly upon a roof, and looked down a cold and smokeless chimney for a moment before climbing inside and down. Quite dirty, she made it to the other side into an empty and dusty room. Making certain her hood was up and that she was very quiet, she climbed up through the palace to the uppermost tower. The Prince was once again alone, and when she entered the room a pale and wasted Piri fluttered painfully down from the canopy.

“Piri!” Katya said sadly, stroking the bird’s once brilliant throat. “I have the golden apple. Shall I make him a potion?”

“You should,” Piri said, almost too quiet to hear, which made Katya nearly weep. “I have kept him safe for you; but I shall soon die, and he will soon follow.”

“Do not say such things!” Katya said, but set the bird down and began to make a potion of the golden apples and what was left in her basket. As she made it, she did begin to weep, and her tears fell into her bowl alongside the ingredients. When it was completed, she went to the Prince and lifted up his head; luckily his mouth fell open and was not frozen shut, and she was able to tip some of the potion into his throat. When all but a little of the potion had gone, Katya turned to Piri, but too late. The bird gave a small gasp and then a shudder and disappeared. Katya allowed herself to cry then, and buried her face in the Prince’s bedclothes, sobbing. She was so distraught she did not see the Prince stir, but she did look up when he touched her hair.

“Why are you weeping?” he asked, sounding drowsy and still half-asleep. “Do not weep, beautiful maiden.”

“Prince,” Katya said, wiping her face, “we must away, and quickly. I fear that your adviser may know his spell has been broken, and--”

“My adviser? Koschei? What of him? Why are you here? What--” The Prince broke off, for he felt his hair and the frost there. “What has happened?” he cried.

“All will be explained, I assure you, Prince, but we must leave here, and now. Please believe me!”

The Prince studied her, and then nodded. “I do believe you,” he said. “Where shall we go?”

“Away from here!” Katya said, and ran to the window, which she unlocked and threw wide. “Come with me!” she called, fastening her cloak and raising her hood, and the Prince came and took her arm, and they were away into the sky.

* * *

 When they came back to earth, they were very far from their homeland, and the forest was warm and full of furry pines. Katya was washing her face in a stream when she felt the earth tremble. The Prince, drinking great handfuls of water as he knelt beside Katya, looked up at her with alarm. “I can feel my lands groan,” he said. “There is a great and terrible anger that causes it to buck and shake.”

“Your adviser has found you gone,” Katya said, resuming her ablutions, “probably.”

“So who are you?”

“My name is Katya,” she said, “and I am a witch. I was tasked with ridding our land of evil.”

“I must admit a little incredulity, Katya-the-witch,” the Prince said. “I felt the evil just now, and your face holds no lie; but I cannot believe my dear adviser Koschei would conspire against me!”

“Believe it, Prince,” Katya said. She could still feel the bruises from where he had gripped her; she shuddered. “I have seen it with my own eyes, and the Firebird--”

“The Firebird!” the Prince exclaimed.

“The Firebird,” Katya continued, “cannot tell a lie, and she said that to break the spell you must first be awakened, and next the ice should be lifted from the land, and then we should kill your adviser-- Koschei.”

“The Firebird,” the Prince repeated, musing. “Well, that must be true. So how shall we lift the ice from the land, Katya-the-witch?”

“I don’t know,” Katya said. She yawned: the sun was now falling, and despite her rest in the snow she was still rather tired. “Not tonight, however. I can’t think now; I’m too tired. We should find someplace to sleep, somewhere safe, for I do not trust the trees, and there are animals that wander to no good end as well.”

“Where are we?”

Katya looked around. “I have no idea. But if we are to find shelter we should get started.” She looked first one way, and then the other. “Pick a direction,” she suggested.

“Let us go right, for right is the right way,” the Prince said.

“As you like,” Katya said, and then started off.

“So, tell me, Katya-the-witch,” the Prince said; “you said I was in a sleep?”

“Yes, an icy sleep, and you were nearly dead.”

“I feel wonderful now! However did you break the spell?”

“I journeyed to the garden of Paradise, where I found a fabled golden apple, and returned with it and made a potion for you.”

“Amazing!” the Prince whispered. “You must be powerful, then.”

Katya blushed and shook her head. “No. I’m only doing what fate tells me.”

“And why were you crying? Surely not for me?”

“No,” Katya said. “I had a companion-- a bird, called Piri--”

“A bird?”

“Yes. She was given to me by Death himself.” And as she spoke she remembered her strange dream in the snow, when Death had visited her. “He is my father,” she said, slowly.

“Your father?”

“I dreamed...never mind, it doesn’t matter. Piri was a servant of Death, and he gave her to me as my help. She...she helped me, and I don’t know how to finish this without her. I simply don’t know enough.”

“But you have me now!” the Prince said. “I was taught magic since I was very small, so surely we can come up with something.”

Katya laughed, for the Prince sounded so determined, and if she didn’t laugh she felt she would cry. “Thank you, Prince.”

“You can call me Nikolai,” the Prince offered. “I already know I’m a prince; I don’t need you reminding me.”

“Thank you,” Katya said. “Nikolai.”

“Wait!” Nikolai said suddenly. “There! Do you see smoke?” He started off into the woods to his left, away from the stream. Katya had to hurry to catch up with him, and by the time she did he had already heedlessly entered the clearing. Three figures sat around a tiny fire; Katya was startled to realize she recognize one of them.

“Western Wind!” she cried, and the little boy looked up and grinned at her. “What are you doing so far away from your home?”

“I could ask you the same think, Katya,” the Western Wind said shyly. “I see you still have my cloak; has it been much use to you?”

“Oh, yes, thank you so much,” Katya said. “Please, let me introduce the Prince to you. I have awakened him from his icy sleep, and we are next to lift the snow from the land. Prince Nikolai, this is the Western Wind, who was kind to me.”

“Won’t you introduce us?” another of the figures asked gruffly.

The Western Wind rolled his eyes. “These are my brothers, the Eastern and Southern Winds.” The Eastern Wind was a thin Chinese man with a smooth black queue and a beautiful robe of green, red, and silver. He nodded to Katya and the Prince. The Southern Wind was a boisterous dark man with wild brown hair and the rough clothes of an adventurer; he jumped up and kissed Katya on both cheeks before violently shaking the Prince’s hand.

“It is so nice to meet you!” the Southern Wind said.

“Y-yes,” Katya half-laughed. “I am glad we fell upon you.”

“Please, join us around our fire,” the Western Wind said, and Katya and Nikolai joined them, warming their hands.

“What brings you to these parts of the world?” the Eastern Wind asked.

“Thanks to your brother’s wonderful cloak,” Katya said, “we were able to escape here after I woke Nikolai; we were rather in a hurry, and I did not look to where I went. Where are we?”

“In the Americas,” the Southern Wind boomed. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

“Mmm,” Katya agreed noncommittally.

“What brings you...Winds here, if I may be so bold?” the Prince ventured.

“We are discussing our fourth,” the Western Wind said with a sigh.

“The Northern Wind?” Katya said. “Why?”

“We do not like how he has become servant for that foul man, Koschei.” (The Prince made a small involuntary sound.) “The Winds do not serve any man!” the Southern Wind roared, pounding his palm with his fist.

“What will you do?” Katya asked.

“We were just trying to decide,” the Eastern Wind said. “I say we leave him be; if he was weak enough to become ensorcelled in the first place, that is his problem now.”

“Brother!” the Southern Wind said. “You cannot be serious!”

“And if I am? What of it?”

The Southern Wind spluttered with rage. Over him, the Western Wind said, “Brothers, please, let’s not argue. We should take this up with mother. I’m sure she’d love to see us; I know I have been lax in visiting her.”

“Yes, let us run home to mother,” the Southern Wind said with a bitter twist of his mouth. “By all means, let us ask mother what she thinks.”

“Just because you always tell her the bad things you do so that you get punished--” the Eastern Wind began.

“Brothers! Arguing won’t solve anything. I say that going to ask mother’s opinion is as good as anything. Katya, Prince Nikolai, perhaps you would care to join us? Maybe mother would have some advice that would help you as well.”

Katya and the Prince looked at each other; Katya then said, “We would love to, thank you.”

The Eastern Wind picked the Prince up like he was a child, and Katya wearily put up her hood and followed them all into the sky. She remembered little of the journey except for the terrible mountains they had to cross and how cold the air was, even through the magical cloak she wore. When she once again looked about with interest, they were in a large dry cave with a roaring fire in the middle of it. A tiny old woman with slanting needles for eyes hovered over the fire, cooking something that smelled wonderful in a pan.

“You sons,” she said, as they all swooped in and kissed her, “come in here, bringing your drafts!”

“Mother,” they groaned. The Prince and Katya swayed on their feet. “We brought guests-- can’t you let us slide this once?”

Before long, both humans found themselves comfortably before the fire on mattresses stuffed with soft feathers, plates of stew in their hands. They wolfed their dinner while the Winds argued with their mother. Nikolai fell asleep soon after, but Katya, tired as she was, remained awake, trying to follow their conversation without much luck, kept awake also by her hand, which had begun once more to ache most frightfully, and had also begun to turn a raw red colour. She formulated a poultice in her head, but found it too difficult to begin to actually put it together.

“You have been touched by the Firebird, young one.” Katya blinked; the mother of the Winds crouched before her, peering into her face. The Mother took Katya’s hand, hissing in sympathy. “We must fix this, and soon.”

“I could make a poultice,” Katya said slowly, “but I have lost my basket of herbs.”

“My boys can bring you anything you need. Boys!” she barked. “Our guest is ill. We must help her.”

Katya sighed and listed a few items she thought she could make a cooling potion out of. When she blinked again, what she had asked for had arrived, and she kneeled carefully on the stone floor and crushed aloe and peppermint leaves before mixing them together with fresh snow and the pulp of a grapefruit. When this had cooled to a slush, she slathered her hand with the poultice before wrapping a cloth to keep from making a mess. A delicious refreshment filled her, and then she slept.

* * *

 She was awakened by the soft drip of melting water. The cave of the winds was silent, and empty, as Katya discovered when she sat up. The fire had died to coals, and her hand ached no more. She threw back the blankets and went to peek out of the cave. There were mountains as far as she could see, thrusting up against a bold blue sky that hurt the eyes; the sun was high above the horizon and caused the snow that coated everything to glitter fiercely. It was, in a word, breathtaking. The cold breezes that blew were also breathtaking, and Katya retreated back inside the cave to find the cloak of the Western Wind; with it about her shoulders, the cold was bearable, and she ventured out of the cave to the edge of the cliff, where there was the perfect rock for sitting.

“You’re up!” Nikolai said, coming up behind her; his face was flushed and he looked healthy and vibrant; he wore thick furs and a dark blue wool cap. Katya remarked on his clothes. “Oh, the Wind-Mother found them for me this morning. I’ve been out with the winds all day. They’ve been showing me the greatest things!”

“I’m sure,” Katya said.

“Now that you are awake, we can plan,” the Prince said. “The Wind-Mother said she would be glad to advise us, and offer us what assistance she could.”

“Wonderful,” she said. “Where are the winds now?”

“My sons will return later,” the Wind-Mother said, coming up behind the Prince. She was much wrapped in coats and scarves. “They are running some errands for me. Come, let us have some food and talk. We have much to discuss.”

Back inside the cave, the Wind-Mother cooked: there were sausages and potatoes and dark spicy greens and soup and brown bread and honey and radish salad and hot tea, and Katya ate until her stomach hurt. The Prince was answering the Wind-Mother’s questions about his education and magic; Katya listened with only half an ear, thinking intently about what the Firebird had said.

“What can you tell us about your adviser, Koschei?” she asked during a lull in the conversation.

The Prince sipped his tea pensively. “He always seemed like such a good man to me,” he said. “He never gave me any reason to distrust him. I first met him five years ago, when I had just turned thirteen; he was recognized by the court magicians as a wise man, and the regent, my cousin Ivan, suggested I take him as a teacher and adviser. For two years he taught me everything I know about magic and geography-- he was exceedingly well-traveled. When I was made the ruling Prince upon my fifteenth birthday, I chose Koschei as my head minister and magician. Everything seemed fine, normal; but then...” He drifted off.

“Then?” Katya prompted.

“When I turned seventeen, there was a large celebration,” Nikolai continued in an undertone. “I remember the party as though it were yesterday. I remember going to sleep that evening...” He shook his head. “And then you were there, Katya, and now I am here, and it is a year and a half later. I do not wish to believe ill of my beloved advisor; but there is something foul afoot that must be stopped.”

“Yes,” Katya said impatiently, “but what do you know about Koschei himself?”

“Nothing, really. He is an accomplished magician and has traveled all over, and he has a reputation for greatness; he is also very old, although he doesn’t look it, but he was known in my father’s and my grandfather’s day. When he arrived at court, he brought nothing with him at all; I found this odd at the time, but since he traveled, it is explainable.”

Katya shook her head. “We will have to kill him, I fear.”

The Prince looked sad. “I know it, and while I hope it does not come to that, we must stop this winter of death that has fallen over my land.”

“That is the next step, actually,” Katya said. “The Firebird said we must first wake you, and then the land; you are awake, and so now we must break the spell of ice.” Katya turned to the Wind-Mother, who had listened to all this impassively. “Do you have any ideas?”

The Wind-Mother sat there on a cushion, wrapped in a multi-coloured assortment of scarves until she was only the suggestion of human form. Her eyes were closed as she spoke: “I have many ideas, each more unlikely than the last. But this I know is true: this Koschei will not stop with your lands, Prince Nikolai. He will spread his power until he can eat the whole world.”

“Do you have the gift of foresight?” the Prince asked eagerly.

“No; but my sons the Winds have brought me news that already the winter which strangles your homeland can begun to creep outward, to other lands.” She sat in silence for a moment, then continued: “I can offer only a very little of my help, as can my sons. But what help we do have I believe will provide great aid for you. The Firebird, curse her name, directed you truly: once the spell of winter has been broken on the land the magician will become much weaker. So what I intend to do is to reclaim my bad son, the North Wind, which will greatly weaken the spell of winter; I will also send my other sons to find where the magician has anchored his spell of ice, and I will send you to destroy it. That is the most I can do, and the magician will be left up to you two, I am afraid.”

“Thank you, Wind-Mother,” the Prince said. “Any and all of your help will be great indeed, and we appreciate it. When shall we begin?”

“We already have,” the Wind-Mother said: “my sons are now searching for the magician’s anchor; when they find it they shall return here, and then we shall go and retrieve the wicked Northern Wind, and I will place him in sack for an eternity times two for his evil.” She pointed to an innocuous-looking burlap sack hanging on a peg on the cave wall. “For now, you must rest as much as you can.” When Katya opened her mouth to argue, the Wind-Mother raised a finger and said firmly, “Rest.” So Katya and the Prince lay down once more, and slept, and when they awoke the Winds had all returned.

* * *

 They had indeed found where Koschei had anchored his spell of winter: there was a castle, on top of a mountain surrounded by clouds in the deeps of the desert; and the castle and gardens was surrounded by first a maze of tall shrubbery and then by a thick stone wall; and in one of the gardens was a particular tree, guarded by a fierce roc. This tree, the Winds swore, was where the magician anchored some great magical spell, one that felt colder than ice.

“Either way,” the Southern Wind said with a deep laugh, “he’ll be weakened, and then you can defeat him.”

Exactly how they were to defeat him was as yet unknown. The Wind-Mother was silent on this subject, and Katya found herself reluctant to bring up the topic with the Prince; best not, she concluded, to jinx their duties before they began.

The infamous sack taken from the wall of the cave, the Wind-Mother and her sons and Katya and the Prince all set off to retrieve the wicked Northern Wind. They found him resting in a deep gully, with sharp shards of ice on one side, and bare frozen stone on the other. He saw them coming, however, and tried to scramble up the side of the gully, tossing back freezing breezes to slow his brothers and Mother down; but the Mother, with agility belying her age, was on him in a flash, and tied him up in the sack. The Northern Wind thrashed about and screamed fiercely, but he was good and trapped.

“You have been quite wicked, my son,” the Wind-Mother said, giving the sack a violent shake before turning to Katya and Nikolai with a toothless smile. “There; we have done all we can; I pray you succeed in your quest. My sons will keep an eye on you.”

“Thank you, Wind-Mother,” Katya said. She pulled up the hood on her cloak.”We must away now, Prince,” she said, and the Prince nodded and grabbed hold of her arm tightly. They leapt together into the sky, heading south. The mountain was in the deeps of the desert just beyond an ocean of sky blue, and it took a surprisingly short time until they spotted the mountain, rising up on the pale golden horizon of the sands.

They landed near the bottom of the mountain to exchange ideas.

“How are we going to break the spell?” Katya asked.

Nikolai stretched his chin. “The Wind-Mother gifted me with a sword,” he said, drawing her attention to the sword now belted at his side; “I do not know if it is a magical sword, but I can place a few enchantments of my own on it, and if we can get past the Roc, I can try just cutting the anchor to bits.”

“Yes, the Roc...I had an idea about him.” Katya explained her idea to Nikolai, who agreed to try it. Nikolai hunted for a dromedary while Katya looked for scorpions. They met each other a few hours later, each bearing the fruits of their searches. Katya then took to the air, carrying in her arms a dripping hunk of dromedary meat that had been doctored with scorpion poison; the Roc snapped and howled at her as she passed, but was unable to fly far as it was cruelly chained to a dead and frozen tree. Katya flew past, not dropping the meat, and returned to Nikolai.

“What happened?” he asked, as she landed nearby.

“I...don’t want to kill the Roc,” she said. “It is chained up! It can hardly fly. I want to free it.”

The Prince threw his hands up in the air. “You women! So soft-hearted! Give me the meat, I will poison the brute.”

“No,” Katya protested. “I’ll risk my neck; I want to try to free the Roc. Please. I’ll be careful. If I can’t reason with it, then we’ll kill it. I promise.”

“I’m coming with you,” the Prince said, and so they flew up into the gardens, landing well out of reach of the Roc. The bird snapped and screeched and clawed at the earth in an attempt to get at them; but the chain held fast.

“Roc!” Katya yelled. “Please, we don’t want to hurt you!”

The Roc paused, breathing heavily. It screeched again, and then said, “I want to hurt you! You humans, you come to steal my egg!”

“Your egg?” the Prince whispered. “It’s a she!”

“Lady,” Katya said, “I want to help you keep your egg, I swear, not take it! I am not interested in your egg!”

“He said people would come to steal my egg! That is why he has locked it up in the tree!” The Roc began scratching at the earth again with her sharp claws.

“And why has he chained you thusly?”

The Roc stopped. “It has been so long,” she said dully. “I cannot remember our original agreement. I think-- I think-- he said he would keep my egg safe inside the chest if I guarded the chest. I think...”

“Lady,” Nikolai said, “let us help you. Let us free you, and you can take your egg wherever you wish. Please.”

The Roc went berserk again, screaming, “No! No! You humans will betray me!”

“What can we do to convince you?” Katya shouted over the bird. “I will-- I will let you kill me if we steal your egg! I will stand here and let you kill me!” The Roc blinked, astonished. “Yes,” Katya repeated, “I would. I will let you hold me in your claws while my friend climbs into the tree and brings down the chest, and then we will trade: me for your egg. Is this acceptable? We will unchain you from the tree either way. Lady, we mean you no harm.”

“Well, this is interesting,” the Firebird said from the top of a wall.

“Go away,” the Roc said. “I do not wish to speak with you.”

“You know each other?” Katya asked.

“I come, from time to time, to chat,” the Firebird said cruelly. “This Garden has such wonderful fruit, and I like to eat some of it as well as gaze upon this tamed creature.”

“Leave me alone!” the Roc cried.

“If you will not help us, let us be,” Katya said.

“I can vouch for the witches’s word,” the Firebird said abruptly. “She entered the Garden of Paradise and was allowed to take fruit. She speaks the truth.”

Katya and Nikolai held their breath as the Roc considered the Firebird’s words. “The Firebird cannot lie,” Katya said softly.

“I know this,” the Roc said, voice trembling. “Very well; release me, and then you will be free to climb into the tree and retrieve the chest. I will still kill you if you betray me!”

“Thank you, dear lady,” Nikolai said with a deep bow. He jogged to the tree and began climbing. The Roc’s chain was on the first row of branches, and Nikolai quickly undid the knot. Climbing higher, there was a fairly large chest about halfway up, bound to a thick branch by ropes of ice; balancing on another branch, he took out his sword and broke the ice before tucking the chest under an arm and climbing awkwardly back down. Katya knelt by the chest on the ground, peering at the lock.

“I cannot open this,” she said.

“Perhaps I can,” the Firebird said, and gave a piercing tone. The lock, made of silver, broke off the chest to fall in pieces onto the grass.

Katya flipped open the chest. There was a heavy egg inside, about three times the size of a human head, slate grey in colour, and Katya flinched away from the heat boiling off it.

“Lady Roc,” she said, presenting the open chest, “your egg.”

The Roc gave a ferocious squeal and rushed toward Katya, who threw herself backward; but the Roc was already gone, her egg clenched tightly in her claws, flapping quickly off over the desert toward the ocean, for Rocs, as everyone knows, nest by the ocean.

“Well,” Nikolai said, helping Katya up.

“Yes,” Katya agreed. “The hardest part is yet to come.”

“I think you will find death easy,” someone said behind them.

Nikolai cried out as though wounded. “Koschei! You dare show your face before me?”

“My prince,” said the magician with the fiery eyes, sweeping a bow full of loathing. “Hurry, let us kill this evil witch before she ruins all our plans!”

“Evil witch?” Nikolai said. “Katya is not evil, and I am glad she is a witch. Of what plans do you speak?”

“Nikolai,” Katya breathed, “don’t let him bespell you!” She was trembling, eyes darting from side to side frantically, searching for anything that might help them.

“Why, the plans your father, may he rest in peace, made before he died. He was always suspicious of witches, my prince, and ever watchful for a way to control his people; this winter which you seem to so despise is on the wishes of your father.”

“No!” Nikolai cried, “I refuse to believe that!”

Katya caught the glimpse of something odd hanging around Koschei’s neck: a necklace, seemingly made of solid ice, in the shape of a human heart. Suddenly, she knew that the spell of cold on the chest was only to keep it from catching fire from the heat of the Roc’s egg. The necklace-- he kept his heart with him always! She reached out to touch Nikolai’s arm when the magician gave a harsh yell and shot a rope of fire from his hands. She was wrapped in burning chains, unable to breath or struggle, toppled over onto the ground.

“--was going to harm you!”

“--never-- let her go--”

“--cannot win--”

“Katya!”

The ropes let go and Katya scrambled to her feet. Koschei forced Nikolai backwards with powerful thrusts of an icy sword that burned with bright light. The grass around them was burning, smoking, making it difficult to see. If only Nikolai could get to the heart--

Abruptly, the Prince let out a wild yell of triumph and gave a flick of his sword; the necklace, cut from Koschei’s neck, flew up into the air-- Katya caught it, and threw it into the hottest part of the blaze. The fire, created with Koschei’s own power, was magical, and caused the heart to smoke and begin to melt.

Koschei screamed with rage and pain, reaching out to save his heart and his power-- the Prince ran him through with his sword. The Firebird, forgotten, gave a sharp whistle and the flames fanned up higher than ever. With once more horrible scream, Koschei was gone: he had tied too much of himself and his power into his heart that once the heart was destroyed, so to was he.

Nikolai staggered and fell to the ground. “Nikolai!” Katya said, and stumbled to him. He was exhausted, and covered with smoke and with burns. He reached out and touched her hair wonderingly. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Your hair is gone,” he said. She touched it, and found that it was a short as her chin now, burned off by the flaming chains.

“Is that all you can say?” Katya said. “We defeated Koschei. You can go home now, and rule your country.”

“And what of you, Katya the witch?”

Katya shook her head. “I am of no consequence, Prince. I will return you to your kingdom.”

“You will stay with me,” he commanded, “at least for a little while.”

Katya refused to acquiesce, and instead turned to find the Firebird, who was still sitting innocently on the thick stone wall. “Thank you, Firebird, for helping us.”

“Help you?” the Firebird scoffed. “Would I do something like that? You must have been thinking of someone else. Rest assured, it will not happen again.” With that, she turned and disappeared in a flash.

“Why did she help us?” Nikolai wondered aloud as he stood up slowly with Katya’s help.

“Maybe she knew it was only a matter of time until Koschei went after her,” Katya suggested. Privately, she thought it was so the Firebird could have free reign to eat the fruit of Koschei’s garden, but she did not say this to Nikolai. She put up the hood of her cloak and gripped Nikolai tightly, and they were gone. The garden, even untended, grew forevermore, although the castle eventually crumbled into dust.

* * *

 The entire kingdom rejoiced to have their Prince back and spring returned once again to the land. Although Katya tried to slip away from the castle amid all the festivities, Nikolai always stopped her before she did, and so she remained in the castle for all three weeks of the celebration. Eventually, however, the administration issues would wait no longer, and Nikolai was forced to spend long days sitting on committees and hearing disputes. Katya wandered farther and farther from the castle each day, but always returned before sunset, and spoke with Nicolai long into the night.

One day Katya was met by the Western Wind, who invited her to come away with him and see something beautiful. She never hesitated, and spent a glorious time on an island in the middle of clear blue waters, the sun burning the winter deliciously out of her flesh. When she began to grow restless again, the Western Wind took Katya back to visit the Wind-Mother in the Cave of the Winds, and it was there that Katya learned many spells and potions and bits of forgotten folklore from the wise Wind-Mother.

It seemed that her soul was bound to be forever restless, for she soon tired of the beauty of the mountains, and left the Wind Family behind to strike off on her own.

Katya wandered, going where she pleased and leaving when she pleased. She slept under the stars, secure under the cloak of the West Wind, and bartered for food or ate the fruits of the land. She knew there was one place she wished to go but could never return, and so made her home nowhere.

But she still made her way, ever so inexorably, toward the Garden of Paradise.

Her mistake was that she fell asleep one evening under a Gamayun’s tree.

She was woken the next morning when the Gamayun fluttered down from its nest and began chuckling over her.

“Poor witch, poor witch,” it giggled. Its feathers were glossy black, and its human head bore long black hair. Its eyes were green and its face was fair.

“What is it?” Katya asked crossly. “I was still asleep.”

The Gamayun continued to chuckle.

“Prophesy if you will, Gamayun, or else leave me in peace!”

“Certainly, I will prophesy,” it said, with the air of settling down to business, “not that you need a prophesy to see your future.”

Katya remembered that not many sought out the Gamayun, content to find simpler ways to see the future, and began to believe them.

“Tell me, please,” Katya said.

“You will wander until you find the flower that blooms only once every hundred years, in the mountains of your homeland,” the Gamayun said.

Katya waited, and when nothing else seemed forthcoming said, “Is that all? Where shall I settle?”

“Oh, it will all be clear to you soon,” the Gamayun said with a wink, and flew off, crowing.

The walls of the Garden of Paradise gleamed in the distance as Katya watched. Sadly, she turned away, for the Gamayun was always true, and returned to the land of her birth.

* * *

 A year passed.

Katya had scoured every part of the mountains for the flower that bloomed only once every hundred years, but could find nothing; no one even seemed to have heard of such a thing, when she stopped in always prosperous villages and towns-- the kingdom, it seemed, was doing quite well. The Prince had been crowned king: King Nikolai the Wise, some called him, while others argued that he would always be King Nikolai the Magical.

It was the evening of the summer solstice.

Katya was lying in a field not far from a village. She heard the tinkling of the instruments and the stomping of the dancers, all celebrating the solstice. She drowsed in the late sunlight-- the sun would not set for hours yet, and she still enjoyed as much of its warmth as she could get.

“Katya,” someone said.

She opened her eyes. It was Nikolai, dressed in simple shirt and trousers. She hadn’t seen him for over a year now, and he’d gotten taller.

“How did you find me?” she asked, unsurprised.

He shrugged and stuck his hands in his belt. “I have my ways. What is the point of being a king if you can’t find someone?” He sat beside Katya on the grass.

“I heard,” Katya said. “Congratulations. King Nikolai the Wise. Or do you prefer the Magician?”

Nikolai groaned. “Neither, and especially not from you. Come back with me, Katya.”

“No,” said Katya, finally sitting up. “I can’t.”

“I heard about your foolish quest,” he said. “I have checked all the books of lore and none of them mention any such flower.”

“Then I will wander until I die,” Katya said, looking him full in the face. “Nikolai, you can’t really think my quest so foolish. The Gamayun itself told me.”

“No,” he said, “I don’t think it so foolish; but I was hoping you might return with me.”

And Katya blushed, and hung her head, for she knew why he wished her to return, and she knew that she could not. “I am but a simple witch,” she began, but he kissed her.

“Come back with me,” Nikolai murmured into her hair, sun-warmed and beautiful. “Come back with me and be my wife. You gave me my life back, and now I want to make another with you at my side.”

“The Gamayun--”

“I will wander with you,” he said. “We will journey these lands until you find what you seek. I give you my word.”

Sadly, Katya pulled away from him and stood. She drew breath to deny him-- and stopped.

All around them, the ruta, the common rue, was turning from its common golden hue to a rich, deep red.

Nikolai let out a breath in wonder. “Chervona Ruta,” he said.

“Red Rue for Midsummer’s Day,” Katya said. She turned away, dizzy and ashamed. “King--”

“Nikolai,” he insisted, gripped her shoulders. “Call me by my name and marry me.”

“I have no excuses now,” she said. “But-- Nikolai, why won’t you marry someone else? You do not know me, and I do not know you. You should marry to increase your lands and power--”

“I will be increasing my power,” he laughed. “Katya, you are the last witch in my lands.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are; and with you at my side nothing will stop our land from flourishing.”

"Our land?"

“Marry me, Katya; I won’t take no for an answer. Your quest led you here, it is obvious, as it led me here to find you; marry me, for I love you.”

“You do?” she asked.

Nikolai laughed brokenly. “I do. I loved you the moment I saw you crouched by my bed, weeping for a lost companion. You are so strong, Katya, and so kind, and, yes, you are  
beautiful.” Here he kissed her hands. “It is true that I only know you a little, but we have all our lives to get to know each other and do great things. We need to train our people to do magic again, you need to train new witches and I new magicians-- we can do it together!”

“I love you as well,” Katya said wonderingly. “And--” She looked about the field, filled with beautiful red blossoms. “And-- is it allowed? Will it be allowed? Then-- yes!” And she threw her arms around him and kissed him until they broke away, laughing. He tucked her arm into a elbow and they set off over the field. Nikolai asked her where she had traveled, and she told him, and bid him speak of his doings, and so he told her. They spoke of their old adventures, and Katya said, a little wistfully, “I will miss all the adventures, even though, at the time, they seemed much too scary and big for anyone. But I suppose that is what one does, when the adventures are over: settle down and live uneventfully.”

“You’re not giving up any adventures,” Nikolai said, “you are only starting a new one.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're at all familiar with Russian folk lore, or Hans Christian Anderson, playing "spot the stolen idea" should be fun. The Cave of the Winds (and the Winds, and the Wind-Mother) come from Anderson's story, "The Garden of Paradise." Nicolai, the Gumayun, the Firebird, Koschei, the Roc, the Ruta, and Baba Yaga all come from various Eastern fairy tales and folk lore. A few minutes on wikipedia will clear anything up for you. Um, you may also catch a hint of a Perrault tale that didn't really pan out but I left in anyway? 
> 
> The whole idea for this came when I was in middle school, and volunteering about three times a week at the public library. I had to put away the children's books sometimes, and in the great big plastic cubes I found a book that included a girl, a frozen prince, a firebird, and an evil dude. At least, I think there was a firebird; the frozen prince and the girl I know where there. I've never been able to find it-- it was meant for little littles-- and if you do chance upon it, pleeeease let me know what it is and who it's by, because I'd love to read it and get a copy to keep. It was gorgeous artwork too, and the story, obviously, left quite an impression.


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